


This

by weirdlazydelicious



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Guilt, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Self-Esteem Issues, Sleep Deprivation, Suicidal Thoughts, more tags will be added probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6810547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdlazydelicious/pseuds/weirdlazydelicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seven months, Bucky is woken up and can no longer be controlled as the Winter Soldier. However, things still aren't perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s been a week and Steve hasn’t returned yet. Which is…probably fine. He’s got more important and urgent problems than dragging himself all over Africa to say ‘hi’. Saving the world, for example, and avoiding arrest, and looking after his friends, who are- 

Who are….stable enough to actually return the favor. 

It’s been a week since Bucky’s return from the cryosleep. T'Challa’s doctors were hunting the solution for seven months. And now, he is free of mind-control, they say. He is allowed to stop worrying about killing everybody, they don’t say. Well. That might be true. It’s great. He’s incredibly grateful, really. Except, he can’t seem make himself feel better, however he tries to reason it. 

See, in the cryo – and for the record, Bucky would be damned to ever come near that fucking thing again – he slept, and he dreamt. All the memories he’d gathered in the past two years suddenly came together like a puzzle. Some things were new. Some things, especially the ones from childhood years, are nice. Some things make him want to peel his skin off and scream and put a bullet through his head. But he hasn’t done it yet, because, imagine all the trouble Steve and his friends and all the doctors here endured to ‘get him back’. To ruin all their work… He feels guilty enough already. (Stark’s face when he found out about his parents. I don’t care, he killed my mom.) Bucky shuts his eyes. It doesn’t help. But he did kill her, didn’t he? All of them. He remembers everyone. It wasn’t you, people keep saying. He is the one who carries the dead weight, though, and maybe, maybe he will never be able to clean the blood from under his fingernails. 

So Bucky is…stuck. Out of the cryo chamber and technically a free man in this country, but stuck nonetheless. He can’t kill himself to stop the pain and he’s unable to help Steve because he still doesn’t have an arm and is afraid to fall asleep and has more issues than can be counted. He’s never gonna be able to thank T'Challa. Leaving Wakanda on his own is not an option and he feels like a parasite while staying there.  
It’s also only been a week. Snap out of it, Barnes. Steve would’ve come if it was possible. There’s no reason to think he would ditch you after everything that’s happened. They have spoken on the phone twice in the last four days. It seems like he’s counting on Bucky to become a part of his superhero group as soon as he can. (The thing is, Bucky isn’t so sure he could do it.)

Speaking of Steve... 

Bucky looks at his brand-new smartphone in contemplation. The digital numbers are showing 03:01AM. 10:01AM in Steve’s time zone, then. Should he call? What if he interrupts something. And what would he say, anyway? Hi, Steve, I am still here, how was your day. Bucky lifts his gaze, taking in the vast night sky. Stars in southern hemisphere are beautiful. They used to…they used to sit on the rooftop of their apartment building, before the war. Smoking sthma cigarettes so Steve wouldn’t have an attack. Looking up, just like this. Sometimes in silence, but usually talking about literally anything, no matter how stupid it was. Bucky feels his stomach knot. Ugh. He presses the call button. Waits. Nothing.

A minute passes in disappointing silence and then his phone starts ringing. Bucky picks up so fast that he almost drops it from the roof. 

“Buck,” Steve says breathlessly. “Hey.”  
Damn it, Rogers, stop sounding like an eager puppy, okay? Bucky can’t help but smile.  
“Hey, Steve. How’s the mission goin’?”  
“It’s, uh, it’s going fine. We’re almost done, actually-“  
He’s cut off by a crashing sound. There’s some indistinguishable yelling and what sounds like somebody getting kicked in the face. Bucky frowns.  
“Sorry. Where were we?”  
“Steve. Are you in the middle of a fight right now?”  
“Uh, kinda?”  
Bucky waits until the sounds of combat ceases again.  
“Why the fuck are you picking up your phone? Christ. How have you even survived on your own?”  
”Look, I’ve got this, Sam and Clint are here too, we’ve just ran into a bunch of guys, not a problem. Just, tell me how you are.”  
Bucky sights. “You’re a punk, you know it, Rogers? I’m fine. Not really doing anything interesting.”  
”Don’t be so modest, Barnes. I want to know everything.”  
”Steve, was that an explosion?”  
"Um… Yeah. Ignore it?”  
Bucky snorts and shakes his head.  
“So, what to say… I got my hair cut yesterday. Makes me look like the old self I guess…Honestly, I’m mostly just hanging around. But that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass if you get yourself killed for being a moron.” 

Now it’s Steve’s turn to laugh and Bucky feels himself grip the smartphone tighter. Fuck, Steve must be so damn happy to hear him talk like before. Poor guy. He’ll never get his friend back. Instead, he’s stuck with this damaged version of Bucky Barnes, who can’t even cover his back. And God knows that Steve, being the reckless punk he is, needs plenty of back-covering. Although he has other people for that now, too, doesn’t he? Bucky bites his lip and feels another cramp in his gut. Damn you, anxiety.  
“Steve, um…”he starts to say. There’s another explosion, closer than before. Steve curses and yells something at Sam.  
“Sorry, Bucky, I need to go now, but I’ll have this finished by Sunday, all right? I’ll be there. Keep yourself safe, jerk.”

Before he has any chance to reply, the line goes dead. Bucky stares at the display for longer than is considered normal, probably. Then gets up and starts walking around the rooftop. (It’s actually not as boring as it sounds, because this is a fucking castle, okay, it’s got little towers and higher places and lower places and shit.)So, this is the life of James Buchanan Barnes, former Winter Soldier, almost a hundred years old. Anxious phone calls and climbing roofs like a squirrel. Still better that risking falling asleep. His body can go three days completely without sleep, he remembers, and hopes that by the time he passes out he’ll be too tired to dream.


	2. Chapter 2

It might be completely unintentional, but all the clothes he’s been given are ridiculously soft to the touch. He’s wearing a simple white T-shirt and grey sweatpants at the moment and he feels all cuddly, like a teddy bear, and it’s seriously not helping him to stay awake, but it’s also kind of great, Bucky thinks. He enjoys feeling nice, but... When he was on the run, avoiding Steve and trying to become a person again, everything was earned the hard way. Yes, that whole chunk of time was a shit show, particularly in the beginning, but he made a huge progress nonetheless, and it was him, nobody else, who was in charge. It’s difficult to accept comfort now that it comes for free. Feels wrong. They’re treating him like porcelain doll here, not a former assassin. Damn, but he’d be lying to say it’s not a nice change compared to the last 70 years. Also, the sun? Fucking amazing. Big and gold and, most importantly, always warm. Gardens around the palace are full of exotic trees and colourful flowers of weird shapes and sizes and they are open for everybody. It’s peaceful. (Not safe. Never safe.) 

Bucky likes to sit down on the grass and watch. Not in a creepy way (hopefully). He’s started reading The War of The Worlds and uses his smartphone to stream The Simpsons (because someone had to frame him for a fucking bombing before he could start the sixth season). Or watch funny cat videos on YouTube, like now. Maybe he should get a cat? Would the cat like him? Furthermore, how does one know when to start filming to capture these videos? Might be a bit impractical with one hand. Damn, is he tired... Oh, hello there, anxiety- Fuck, how could have he been so stupid. Of course staying awake won’t work forever. The Winter Soldier would’ve been better at this. Bucky blinks. He, uh, should probably move... “Sergeant Barnes,” says Zola. 

Bucky tears off his headphones and jumps to his feet before he can realize what is happening. It’s not Zola, obviously, 'coz that little fucker is dead. Instead, he finds himself staring at T'Challa. Like a deer in the headlights.  
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you,” offers the king calmly.  
Bucky clears his throat. "It’s, um, it’s alright.”  
T'Challa is damn good at sneaking. He’s also watching Bucky very carefully. Ugh. Uncomfortable. Bucky starts planning an escape, then remembers that a) this is not an enemy, and b), considering all odds, it probably wouldn’t work anyway.  
“Your highness?”  
“Please, call me T'Challa.” Bucky sees the opportunity to eliminate future flashbacks at being adressed as sergwant Barnes.  
"Only if you call me James," he says a bit awkwardly.  
“Deal.” They shake hands shortly. It's pretty cringey. T'Challa looks around.  
“Walk with me?”  
“Sure.” Oh God, something terrible must have happened!  
“Do you have problems falling asleep?” Ugh. Great.  
“No. And I believe my sleeping habits are none of your business.”  
“You know the doctors could prescribe you something, right?”  
“Look. I am fine. And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t want to be put to sleep by some chemicals…again. Just drop it. I’m sure you’ve got much more important stuff to do.” 

And he turns around and walks away. And he has a thought, perhaps unrelated to the conversation. How does one learn to live quietly? How do normal people do it? Life? Like, having social contact and hobbies and routines, watching TV, standing in lines for overpriced coffee. Not seeing enemies behind every corner and every closed eyelid. He really should’ve died in Siberia. Because he can't possibly do this. And for a short moment, however horrible it is, a small, tiny part of him maybe sort of wishes Steve dies sometime soon, a very quick and painless death, because then, who would’ve been hurt be his suicide? And then he just feels even more like a monster.


End file.
